


Five Times Tony Stark Made Bruce Banner Laugh, and One Time He Made Him Angry

by Yamx



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hulk Feels, Hulk Talks, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Hulk, Science Bros, Science Experiments, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamx/pseuds/Yamx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being friends with Tony Stark is many things, but it's certainly never boring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tarajuku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarajuku/gifts).



> With thanks to Canaan and Sahiya for betaing.

"Did I hurt anyone?" Bruce looked around at the ruins of what he presumed to have been Tony's living room and winced. _Smash._

"No one you weren't supposed to." Tony pointed to an oddly-shaped hole in the living room floor. 

"What's that?" Bruce pushed himself up to a sitting position to see better.

Tony grinned. "The Hulk made sure Loki left... quite an impression."

"Did I kill him?" Bruce suspected he wouldn't feel too bad even if he had.

"Impressively, no. Those Asgardians—or whatever the hell Loki is—are hardy." 

"Where is he?" 

"Oh, I have a secure holding room—built it as a panic room, really, but it can lock from the outside too if you have the right overrides. The rest of the—" Tony raised his eyebrows. "—team are locking him up there. Thor says he's got something to bind the magic. Figured I'd stay with you, see if you needed anything." He offered Bruce a hand up. 

Bruce took it and let Tony pull him to his feet. His head spun—apparently, the Hulk had expended a lot of energy in the battle. 

Tony grabbed his arm to steady him. "Water? Aspirin? I'd offer you a sandwich, but we're going for shawarma as soon as the guys are done. On that note..." He raised an eyebrow and looked down pointedly. "Pants?"

Bruce felt his face heat. Tony Stark was half holding him upright while he was buck naked, not even threads clinging to him this time. He pulled his arm away. "Ummm... yeah. Pants would be good. And some water. Thanks."

"Sure." Tony seemed entirely unbothered by the nudity. Which, if half the magazine stories were half true, wasn't a surprise. "Follow me."

He led Bruce to a bedroom big enough to be a restaurant, opened a mini fridge hidden in a cabinet, and tossed Bruce a bottle of water. Bruce cracked it and drank gratefully. 

They continued through to a closet larger than most of the family homes Bruce had visited in his time as a quasi-doctor in Kolkata. There were racks and racks of suits and tuxes, leisure clothes, and some outfits that looked so entirely ridiculous Bruce didn't even know what occasion one might possibly wear them for. Was that a frock coat made from gold latex?

Tony was digging through a drawer. "Here." He tossed something at Bruce.

Bruce caught it out of sheer reflex. It was a pack of three pairs of boxer shorts in black silk—brand new, still in the package. They looked like they cost more than every piece of clothing Bruce possessed put together, including the two outfits he'd burst out of today—though only one of those had been technically his. 

"Tony, I don't need—"

"Chafing. What you don't need is chafing. It'll only make you grumpy, and I already have to redo the living room." He winked. 

Bruce rolled his eyes and opened the package. There was a changing screen in the corner, but he figured Tony had already seen it all. He took out one pair, unrolled it, and pulled it on. It felt...nice. Really nice, actually. Maybe a tad loose, but he'd worn clothes that fit far less well. And the silk was soft and sleek. He'd really had no idea underwear this nice even existed. 

"Fit okay?" Tony asked. "I'd send someone shopping for you, but my guess is all the stores are closed."

"No, these are great. Thanks." 

"Sure." Tony handed him an equally new package of socks. Bruce took out one pair, and Tony put the other two and the leftover boxers into a leather duffel bag he'd pulled off a shelf. "Might as well keep those, too, so you have a change." Bruce considered arguing that he had several changes of clothes—well, two—in his temporary quarters on the helicarrier, but Tony pushed on. "What else do you want?"

"Umm..."

"Suit? Tux? Probably a bit formal for shawarma, but fuck, we just saved the planet, we can wear whatever the hell we like."

Bruce almost asked if Tony had any really, really loose sweat pants, just in case. But he knew he was too exhausted to transform again today, and if they were going out as a team, he didn't want to look like a complete slob. "Just jeans and a T-shirt, please."

"Right. Jeans. I have black, faded black, and stone-washed black." A corner of his mouth twitched. "I hope the selection's not too overwhelming."

The selection consisted of more pants than Bruce thought he'd owned in his entire life, but they were indeed all varying shades of black. He knew Tony was rich, but he still didn't understand why someone would want to own so many almost identical pieces of clothing. 

Bruce pointed at one pair at random and Tony handed it to him. Bruce pulled them on, and Tony gave him a pair of bright green Converse. Bruce wanted to object to the color, but Tony was being so generous it seemed crass to complain. 

Before he'd made up his mind, Tony put the green shoes away and handed him a pair of black sneakers. "Sorry." He looked like he was trying to cover sheepishness with bravado. "Feel free to tell me when I'm being a jackass, I don't always realize." 

"No, it's okay, I—thanks." The shoes fit surprisingly well. Apparently Tony was a size ten, too. 

While Bruce was doing up the laces, Tony started rummaging through three racks full of T-shirts—also all black. Bruce briefly considered asking for a button-down instead—Tony seemed to have a much better color-range there—but while the T-shirts looked normal, every button-down shirt he could see seemed like a an expensive designer piece, or possibly tailor-made. 

Well, black wasn't Bruce's favorite color, but he'd given up wearing things he _liked_ years ago in favor of wearing whatever he could get. When he had a choice, he usually picked outfits for their likelihood to remain hanging on him if he changed.

"So, what do you want on your T-shirt?" Tony grinned. "I don't have much of a chromatic range, but boy, do I have prints! Band shirts, geek shirts, fan shirts... I think I have the _Doctor Who_ one with the owls somewhere back here—"

"Any is fine, really."

Tony looked at him over his shoulder. "Really? Any?" There was a twinkle in his eyes.

"Of course."

Tony's grin widened. "Do you solemnly swear you'll wear whatever T-shirt I pull off this rack for you?"

Bruce hesitated. "Let's say anything you'd wear in public yourself." He was hardly in a position to be picky, but he really didn't want to go out wearing one of Pepper's shirts that had accidentally ended up in Tony's closet.

Tony's eyes lit up in a way that made Bruce's stomach drop, imagining all the things Tony might be willing to wear in public that he really, really wasn't. "Fair deal," Tony sing-songed. He stood on tiptoes to take a hanger off the top rack and proudly held it out to Bruce. "And believe me, I've totally worn that in public." 

Bruce laughed and shook his head as he pulled on the Ironman shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Kolkata_ is the official modern English spelling of [ the city that used to be called _Calcutta_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renaming_of_cities_in_India#Renaming_in_English).


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce dialed the number he'd only memorized to shut up Tony. He'd never intended to use it.

His call was picked up on the first ring. "Hello."

"Tony?" he asked. It didn't sound like Tony.

"This is JARVIS."

"Oh, hello, JARVIS. It's Bruce Banner." He had spent about two weeks at the tower after the battle, and that was more than enough time to learn that JARVIS was a person. "I thought this was Tony's direct line."

"It is. He's put it on Do Not Disturb for the moment. I answered it myself because there is an extremely short list of people I'm instructed to put through at any time."

"Oh, sorry, can I leave a—"

"You are on the list, Dr. Banner."

"I am?" Bruce blinked. 

"You, Miss Potts, and Colonel Rhodes. Captain Rogers and Director Fury are currently trying to obtain places themselves, but I'm afraid Sir is being rather... obstinate about it."

Bruce chuckled. "Obstinate? Tony?" 

"Shockingly out of character, I agree." JARVIS's dead pan delivery was a testament to Tony's programming skills—or corrupting influence.

"So, ummm... Could you put me through?"

"I apologize, Doctor Banner, but I have to verify your identity first. The line you are calling from is rather poor, so I don't have a good enough sample for a voice print. Do you mind answering a security question?"

"Uh, sure. Go ahead."

"What was the first thing Sir ever gave you?"

 _Respect. A handshake, a joke that seemed obnoxious at the time but was really just Tony's way of showing me he wasn't scared. A real human connection, someone who looked at me and saw_ me _, not..._ Tony's security question probably wasn't as philosophical as all that. "A dried blueberry," Bruce said. And as small as that gesture was, it had meant something, though Bruce hadn't know Tony quite well enough yet to understand what.

"Connecting."

"Bruce! How are you?" Tony sounded happy, but there was an edge of concern underneath.

"So," Bruce started, "remember just before I left, when I said thanks for everything, but I couldn't stay, I had to go out and take care of myself?"

"Nope, doesn't ring a bell," Tony lied smoothly. "I do remember saying I was hoping you'd come back soon, seeing how you're the only lab partner I've ever worked with who was worth having." His voice got quieter for a moment, like he'd turned his head to someone else. "Don't be silly, Reed, you have nothing on Bruce Banner. Besides, he's a lot less annoying than you." After a short break, he continued, "Well, of course than me, too! Who isn't?"

"Tony, if this is a bad time—" 

"It's a great time, Bruce! Any time you want to call me is a great time." Tony chuckled. "Well, except when Pepper and I—Ouch!" He voice got quieter again. "Pep, darling, why don't you go and have Reed show you what we've got so far?" His voice became louder once more. "Okay, I'm all yours. What do you need?"

"Well..." Bruce swallowed. This was a pretty big favor to ask. "I think the term Clint or Nat would use is 'extraction.'" 

Tony sounded dead serious now. "Are you in trouble? Where are you? No, wait, JARVIS has already located the phone you're calling fro— _Somalia_?" 

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." It had. With the famine and the fighting, humanitarian efforts were both sorely needed and incredibly hard to implement in the region. Bruce's medical know-how, informal as it was, combined with the fact that he didn't have to worry about sniper fire, had seemed like a great argument for going.

"What happened?" 

"Well, it turns out if you have your face all over television, even Somali warlords may recognize you as the Hulk and decide it's a great idea to capture and weaponize you." He smiled grimly. "It didn't work out for them."

Tony swore. "I shouldn't have talked you into that press conference." 

"Steve and Fury pushed as hard as you did."

"Well, yeah, but I'm the one you felt you couldn't say no to."

It was true, and yet startlingly self-aware from someone the world viewed as shallow. It wasn't the lab or the new wardrobe or the guest room in the tower. But Tony had believed in him, had believed he was worth knowing, and that if people only saw him and got to know him better, they would love him the way they loved Ironman and Captain America. Everyone had wanted Bruce to attend the Avengers press conference, but it was Tony who'd convinced him.

"Look, Bruce, just stay where you are, okay? Or if you have to run, run. I'll find you." 

Bruce looked around at the mostly deserted town—it was right at the border between two warlords' territories, so it was hardly surprising that everyone who could had left. Really, it was an amazing stroke of luck that he'd found a working phone. He'd tried dozens before he'd finally gotten a dial tone. "I can hide out here for a while. A day or two at least." 

"Won't take that long. Do you need anything, except extraction?"

Bruce looked down at himself. "Pants?"

"And when you say 'pants,' do you mean, 'Tony, I'm standing here in nothing but a few rags that are clinging to my hips in defiance of the laws of gravity, and I really need a complete set of clothes, socks to shades?'"

"...something like that." 

Tony chuckled. "Extraction and outfit, coming up." 

"Right. There's an abandoned school across the street. I'll wait in there." With any luck, he might be able to find a vending machine, or just some abandoned lunch boxes. His stomach rumbled so loudly that he worried if Tony had heard.

"I'll also have them bring you a sandwich." 

Clearly he had. Bruce flushed. 

"Hey—" Tony voice was quiet now, serious. "Are you okay? Really?"

Bruce sighed and swallowed his dignity. "I'm down and out, hunted, exhausted, and my well-being depends entirely on the kindness of a man on the other side of the planet who's already given me more than I ever had a right to ask for."

Tony suddenly sounded bright. "In that case, you'll be fine. Don't worry about a thing." Bruce heard some beeping in the background. 

"Shit," Tony said, "we're going critical here. But don't worry, I've sent help, they'll be there in a few hours, get you somewhere safe, and then I'll come pick you up with the jet, okay?"

"You don't have to—" 

"Nonsense, I—" A klaxon started howling at Tony's end of the line. 

"Okay, thanks." Bruce hung up. He wanted Tony to focus on whatever had set off the klaxon. That was more important than Bruce standing on his last shred of dignity. 

He carefully made his way into the low school building to search for food, or, failing that, a sheltered place to maybe have a nap.

***

Bruce woke up abruptly a few hours later when he heard a sound by the classroom door. He sat up on the teacher's desk he'd been using as the most convenient horizontal surface. "Who's there?"

A halting voice with a thick accent answered. "I'm to tell you the password is 'black boxer shorts,' because we've already used up 'blueberry.' I hope makes sense to you. Because it certainly doesn't to me."

Bruce chuckled. "It does. It's a Tony thing."

A laugh. "Ah, explains everything." A man stepped fully into the classroom so the light from the shattered window fell on his face. He was tall, almost as tall as Thor. Not quite as muscular, but close. He was wearing a black Stark Industries jacket, and his skin was only a few shades lighter than the fabric. He was grinning widely. "Mr. Stark has a sense of humor that is... special." He held out a hand. "I'm Kassim, from Stark Industries Nairobi. And I'm not to ask you for your name."

Bruce shook his hand with a smile. "Then how do you know I'm the right guy?"

Kassim chuckled. "You'd be surprised how few white guys wearing only shreds and knowing Tony Stark there are around here." 

Bruce grinned ruefully. "Point. Tony mentioned you'd be bringing..."

"Oh yes. Is all in the chopper."

"Chopper? So that's how you got here so quickly. Isn't that dangerous, with the—?"

Kassim stood up straight with an air of offense. "I am Mr. Stark's personal pilot in northern Africa. I know what I'm doing." He winked. "Also, the chopper has retro-reflective panels."

"Stealth mode?" Bruce grinned. "I was wondering where SHIELD got those from."

He followed Kassim out of the building and around it, to a flat area that might once have been a basketball court, but was now a helipad, at least today. "I can't believe I slept through you landing." Though before that he'd been awake for almost 72 hours since the last time he'd slept before, and he'd transformed twice in those three days.

"Is really good stealth mode." Kassim grinned. He climbed into the pilot's seat. "You get in in back, more room, you can change, eat, maybe sleep again." 

Bruce nodded. As he climbed into the back seat, his eyes were drawn to a plastic bag holding several sandwiches and a banana, next to a small box holding a bottle each of water, apple juice and red Gatorade. His stomach rumbled. He looked to the bundle of clothes next to the food and decided they could wait. Kassim had already seen him, it didn't matter if he had a bite to eat first. He reached for the juice and downed half the bottle before Kassim was even in the air. 

As the ruins of the little town became smaller and smaller behind them, Bruce wolfed down two of the sandwiches. The worst of his hunger sated, he reached for the clothes. He wriggled out of his rags and into the boxers and khakis first. "Oh, these fit great."

Kassim grinned at him over his shoulder. "Mr. Stark was very specific about your preferences. It is lucky Stark Industries employee store had everything you wanted in stock." 

Bruce smiled. "Thanks for making an effort. I'm not as picky as Tony apparently made me sound, really." He reached for the T-shirt, unfolded it—and started to laugh. 

Kassim looked back at him and winked. "I'm glad you like. My sons all have Ironman T-shirts, too."


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce coughed as he aimed the nozzle of the fire extinguisher. He pushed the lever and a thick, blue foam—Tony's own invention—sprayed all over the remnants of the explosion. Just as he managed to kill the last of the flames, the door burst open, revealing Tony, Steve, and Clint, all carrying additional fire extinguishers. 

"Fucking hell, Bruce, what happened?" Tony asked over the whir of the vents JARVIS was using to try to remove the smoke from the air as fast as possible. 

Bruce looked away. "I blew up the lab you just spent a fortune to equip exactly to my specifications."

"Fuck the lab, are you okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah." Another cough. "Inhaled a bit of smoke, but not a lot, it all went so fast." He supposed that was why he hadn't hulked out. From the moment he'd realized the experiment was going to blow to the moment it was all over except for a few stray flames, only a few heartbeats had passed. It was a good job he'd had the solid steel storage cabinet between himself and the workbench when it blew, though—had he been hit directly by any of the smoldering debris, the other guy would have been sure to come out and destroy what was left of the lab—and possibly the rest of the tower. 

"What's in the smoke?" Tony asked, concerned. 

"Nothing toxic, don't worry." He looked at Steve and Clint. "Sorry to make you come running."

Steve stepped closer and put a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "We'll come running every time we think you need us."

"Yeah, well, I managed to stop it, you needn't have bothe—"

"Jesus Christ, Doc!" Clint set down the fire extinguisher with a thunk. "We'd rather come running and find out it wasn't needed than sit on our asses and realize too late we should have been there." Though his voice sounded angry, Bruce knew him well enough by now to understand that was how Clint dealt with being worried about his friends.

"Thank you."

Tony was poking around the debris of the work bench. "What were you trying to do here?"

"I thought I'd found a way to circumvent the Lonsky-Greddle restriction."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Have you?"

Bruce gestured to the wreckage. "Does it look like I did?"

Steve cleared his throat. "Before you two drift off completely into technobabble—" He pronounced the term carefully, like a word he'd only just learned. Which it probably was—hadn't Nat and Clint dragged Steve along to a Star Trek marathon two days ago? "Is there anything Clint and I can do here? Is everything safe? Can we help with the clean-up?"

"Nah, Cap, don't worry about it, JARVIS is sending up the bots." 

"I can do it." This was entirely his fault, after all. 

"No, you have to spend the next few hours explaining your theory to me." Steve and Clint quickly withdrew at the prospect of that, wearing identical expressions of fond exasperation. "Maybe we can figure out how to get it right on the next try."

"The next try?" Was Tony insane? "I just blew up the lab!"

"I'll build you a new one."

"What if I blow that up, too?"

"Then I'll build you another one and find a way to make it blow-up-proof." He spread his arms wide. "This is Stark Tower, where we never run out of labs."

Bruce shook his head. 

Tony frowned and stepped closer. "Hey..." He put a hand on Bruce's arm. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? What's _wrong_? I just blew up a million-dollar lab, that's what's wrong."

"It's my million dollars, and I don't care. Besides, it's closer to five hundred thousand, I get discounts with most suppliers." 

Bruce shook his head. "You shouldn't invest in building me another."

"Why not?"

"Because..." He laughed bitterly. "I'm not exactly the poster boy for safe lab practice." 

There was a sad little smile on Tony's face and he patted Bruce's arm awkwardly. "Who is?" He turned around and used his sleeve to wipe the soot from the one surviving screen. "JARVIS, roll the footage from the first time I tested the repulsors' flight capabilities. Bruce, before you watch, let me remind you that I came out of it mostly unscathed, so—feel free to laugh."

Bruce turned to the screen, determined not to laugh at whatever Tony was about to show him.

He lasted a whole six seconds.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ouch! Goddammit, T—" Bruce stopped abruptly and blinked at Tony, who was standing on the opposite side of the workbench and grinning. Bruce looked over his shoulder. "Dummy?" 

Dummy spun his camera left to right and then down in a way that looked almost sheepish.

Bruce glared at Tony. "You've programmed your bots to prod me with that damn electric pen now?"

"Well, see, you were starting to expect it from me..."

Dummy gently tugged on the hem of Bruce's sleeve in what appeared to be a plea for forgiveness. Bruce awkwardly patted his camera. "It's all right, Dummy, I know this was all Tony's fault." 

"I resent that accusation." 

Bruce rolled his eyes and gently rubbed Dummy's claw. "Look how upset you've made him." 

Tony's brows wrinkled in concern. "Dummy, it's all right. You did fine. Input error on my part. You can go play now."

Dummy chirped and rolled off to the corner where Tony had set up a mini golf course for him and You—strictly to improve their camera-claw coordination, he insisted.

Bruce smiled. 

"I'll just have to think of a new method, I guess." Tony shrugged.

The smile turned into a frown. "Or you could just stop with the prodding."

Tony cocked his head, pretending to consider it. "Nah. Ongoing study, sorry."

"I'm not a—" Bruce bit his lip and stopped before he could get worked up. He knew Tony too well to think he really meant it that way.

Tony grimaced. "Sorry. Jackass, remember?" 

Bruce rolled his eyes and bent back over his data screen. 

Tony moved around the bench and gently tugged Bruce's wrist in a gesture eerily similar to Dummy's. "I didn't mean..."

Bruce steadfastly ignored him.

"Hey, come on..." Tony poked him in the side. In exactly the wrong spot. 

Bruce squirmed away, blushing at the embarrassing squeak coming from his own mouth.

Tony's eyes lit up with unholy glee. "No way!"

Bruce hastily backed away. "Tony, no."

Tony advanced on him, wriggling his fingers in a way that made Bruce want to squirm even though they were a good meter apart.

Bruce panicked. "Tony, please, this could be dangerous, I could lose control!"

"You won't. Not from this." Tony's hand darted forward and he poked Bruce's stomach right below the belly button. Bruce jumped back with a pained giggle, but he could tell Tony was right. The Hulk wasn't even stirring. He wouldn't burst to the surface over this. For once, Bruce wasn't sure if he considered that a good thing. He backed away faster.

Bruce's foot struck something and he went down, landing on the artificial grass of one of the mini golf obstacles. Dummy clacked at him in concern.

Tony pounced. He went straight for Bruce's sides, digging his fingertips into the fleshy curve right above his hips. Bruce bucked, desperately trying to escape, but Tony had him pinned. Bruce laughed helplessly.

His last thought before his mind dissolved into ticklish agony was, _It's still better than the electric pen._


	5. Chapter 5

"Ironman, can you keep eyes on the Hulk while the rest of us deal with the cleanup?"

"On it, Cap." In this context, "cleanup" meant "securing the bad guys, getting them into custody, and questioning witnesses." Tony wasn't sad to miss it. The others could handle the boring stuff without him, and he'd hang out with Big Green and make sure Bruce was all right when he came back. Which should be any minute now. 

Tony looked down to where the Hulk was sitting on a lawn in Central Park—on the far side from where the battle had been, since he didn't like the aftermath either—looking around and not seeming even slightly drowsy. "Huh." Tony landed by his side. "Everything okay, big guy? Are there any more of those deathballs around?" 

"Deathballs" was what Clint had called the small robotic spheres flying around and terrorizing the public. Tony had lobbied for "Toclafane," but no one except him and Bruce had understood the joke, and Bruce had already been mid-transformation.

The Hulk shook his head. "Smashed. Smashed good." He grinned.

"That you did. Excellent job." He pushed up his faceplate so the Hulk could see him smile. "So, anything else worrying you?"

The Hulk frowned. "You just want Bruce again."

Tony actually felt guilty for a moment. "Nah, we like having you around! It's just you normally don't stay, so..."

"Hulk go when Bruce safe. But... sometimes, Hulk want to stay. Do stuff. Not only smash."

Tony nodded. "That's fair. So, what'd you like to do?" He noticed a small group of teens slowly inching closer, camera phones held high, and waved at them. 

The Hulk turned and waved, too. The teens shrieked and scattered. The Hulk looked... well, on any other face, Tony would have described the expression as "gutted."

"Hey, big guy, do you like pizza?"

The Hulk shook his head. "Dunno."

"You've never had—yeah, when would you." He held out a hand. "Come on."

The Hulk look puzzled, but obediently stood and held out his hand. Tony firmly grasped—well, two of his fingers. He started walking towards the edge of the park. "Hey Cap," he spoke into the comlink. "I'm taking the Hulk for pizza."

There was absolute silence in return. Then, "Ironman, say again?"

"I'm taking the big guy for pizza. He's never had any." Tony hoped Steve had caught the emphasis on that last bit. "We're going to that little place near the park that Clint likes."

Another moment of silence, then, "Roger that. We'll meet you there in a bit, almost done here."

When they reached the street, a few cars made sudden stops and pedestrians stared and pointed at them. Tony waved, smiling widely, and led the Hulk across the street without giving the slightest notice to the terrified drivers. 

"Okay, big guy, this is sort of a small place, so... it's probably best if we sit out here." The sidewalk was wide enough that people could still walk around the Hulk, and those who didn't want to were welcome to cross to the other side. Tony turned to the door and saw the young daughter of the proprietor—Tessa, if he remembered correctly—staring at them. Well, to be fair, she was mostly staring at the Hulk.

"Hi, Tessa," he said very loudly and very cheerfully. "Hulk, this is Tessa."

The Hulk raised a hand and waved. "Tessa."

"Umm... hi." She blinked and collected herself. "How can I help you, Mr. Stark, Mr. … Hulk?"

"Ah, yes. We'd like some pizza. The others are coming, too, so you might want to bake up some large pies, you know how they get."

Tessa nodded. "Umm...what kind?"

"Well, I'll take the meat lover's delight, as usual, and the Hulk—" He half turned, considering. "You know what, why don't you just make us one of each pie on the menu? That way he has a chance to try them all and I'm sure what he doesn't finish, the rest of the team will. Oh, and could you bring out whatever you have on display to sell by the slice at the moment? We've just had a major battle, and that's always good exercise, so I don't want him to have to wait."

"Err... sure. Everything, coming right up." She disappeared into the restaurant and returned a short time later with two huge pies. One had a slice missing, but the other seemed fresh out of the oven. "Here you go, one pepperoni and one garden surprise." 

Her younger brother, Rico, appeared behind her carrying a bucket. "It was the biggest we had. It's clean, I promise. I scrubbed it out, and we only use it to store tomatoes in, anyway." He set it down by Hulk, and Tony saw that it was filled with a clear, sparkling liquid. "I hope Mountain Dew is okay." 

Tony smiled at the thoughtfulness. The Hulk had to be thirsty. So was he, actually. "Um, could I—" 

Tessa reappeared with a regular-sized fountain drink. "And here's your coke. Dad says to let you know that we still don't take credit cards."

"Uh, I—" 

"But we'll take an IOU."

Tony smiled. "I'll have someone drop off the money today. Promise."

Tessa nodded and disappeared back inside.

Tony turned to the Hulk. He was looking back and forth between the two pizzas. "Which one for Hulk? 

"Why don't you let me have a slice of the pepperoni and you can have the rest? They're making more now." He helped himself and bit into the pizza, sighing contentedly. Battling murderous robots was hungry business.

Hulk copied Tony, but he shoved the whole slice into his mouth at once. He chewed, frowning. "Not nice. Boring."

"Aw, you don't like it? Well, you can try all the different kinds they have, okay? And if you don't like any of them, we'll try muffins next." He gestured to the little bakery next door. 

The Hulk took up a slice of the garden surprise, sniffed it, and ate it just as quickly as the first. "Hulk like!" 

"Good. Wait, are you a vegetarian or something? Bruce isn't, but you're, well, green..." 

Just then, Rico brought out two more pies—Tony's meat lover's delight and one with ham and egg.

"Let's just see if you like these."

Hulk took one slice of each and finished them in short order. "Both good." 

"Yeah? Awesome. Have as much as you like, I can order another meat lover's." 

Just then, the rest of the team walked up, taking in their little tableau with no apparent surprise.

"Hey there, big guy, enjoying the pizza?" Clint asked, grabbing a slice of the ham and egg, because Clint was weird and liked breakfast on his pizza.

"Like hammy egg, and meaty light, and garden, but not peppery." The Hulk pointed to the respective pies, or what was left of them, as he explained.

"Hm. Really? You like the veggie pie? Well, more power to you." Clint smiled. 

The Hulk's brow knitted in confusion. "Hulk already has lots of power!"

Clint laughed. "When you're right, you're right." He looked at the others. "I'll go inside and order. What does everyone want?

"I already ordered the entire menu," Tony said. "Literally. Just get drinks."

"Sure thing." Clint disappeared inside.

"Thank you for the feast, Tony!" Thor clapped him heartily on the back, making Tony glad he was still in the armor, and sat down across from the Hulk. "Are you enjoying this repast, my shield brother?"

The Hulk nodded around a slice of garden surprise. "Garden yummy!"

"Tony," Steve said in an undertone, "You're going to remember we're basically closing the place down to other customers, right?"

"While buying as much as they can make, as fast as they can make it? Yeah." He grinned. "Don't worry, I was planning on tipping a hundred percent."

Just then, Tessa re-emerged. Her eyes widened comically. "Mr. Stark, you don't have to—"

"Quatro formaggi _and_ Buffalo chicken? Honey, keep taking such good care of us and I'll triple the bill." 

"Can we have some of the goat cheese kind?" Natasha asked, sitting next to Hulk on the pavement like it was the most natural thing in the world. He cocked his head at her.

"Go cheese?" His brow wrinkled. "Go where?"

"You'll see." She patted his knee. "It's my favorite."

"Coming up next, ma'am. Steak 'n cheese, too," Tessa added with a smile at Steve. 

"Just keep them coming till we say when, okay?" Tony gestured around at his teammates, all of whom had healthy-to-superhuman appetites. "This might take a while."

"Of course, Mr. Stark. Rico will be right out with the drinks."

Thor was sharing the Buffalo chicken pie with the Hulk, keeping up with him slice for slice.

Tony sat down next to the Hulk on the side opposite Natasha and snatched the last slice of meat lover's delight. "Having a good time, big guy?"

The Hulk grinned. "Yes."

"Glad to hear it."

The Hulk continued, "Best time Hulk _ever_ had. No bang-bang. No shooting. No fire. Just food and friends being nice." 

Tony smiled, but inside he felt awful. Because it wasn't until just this second that he realized the Hulk had probably never had any experiences nicer than a good battle before. He generally only came out in the middle of catastrophe and disappeared as soon as things calmed down.

Heck, for all Tony knew, this might be his first meal ever.

Hulk suddenly looked shy, which was strangely incongruous on his face. "Maybe...if Hulk fight well, we can do again? Sometimes?"

Tony looked at Steve, who nodded, looking just as guilty as Tony felt.

"Big guy," Tony said, putting a hand on Hulk's wrist and squeezing gently. "I promise you, from now on I'll take you out after every battle. Pizza, shawarma, ice cream, Chinese, Mexican—I'll take you to every restaurant in New York that'll have you, and believe me, for my money, they'll have you."

"We shall also accompany you to these establishments and quieten any who would deny you entry," Thor said with an air that made it perfectly obvious he'd been raised to be a king. The others nodded.

The Hulk's eyes went wide as dinner plates. " _Every_ battle?"

"As long as there aren't any wounded or other impending disasters we have to take care of, yes." Tony elbowed the Hulk in the... well, the hip. It was as high as he could reach. 

The Hulk laughed and hugged Tony with one big, surprisingly gentle arm. "Avengers best friends ever."


	6. +1

When Bruce walked into the kitchen, he wasn't surprised to find only Tony there. The rest of the team tended to get up much earlier than them on days when there was nothing scheduled. 

What did surprise him, however, was what Tony was wearing.

Bruce knew, of course, that there were Hulk shirts out there, had even signed a few of them at PR events. But he'd thought he'd made it clear to Tony that he didn't want any Hulk merchandise in their home, no matter how amusing it might be to the rest of the team.

And yet there Tony was, shoveling cold cereal and wearing a black shirt with an angry green face and the slogan, "Let's get smashing!" Bruce frowned.

Tony grinned at him and swallowed the cereal. "Like my new threads?" 

Bruce took a deep breath. "Remember that time you told me to feel free to let you know when you're being a jackass?"

Tony laughed, but it sounded fake. He picked up the package of cereal to refill his bowl, revealing a copy of the New York Telegraph lying on the counter. Bruce briefly wondered how it got there—Steve was the only team member who read print newspapers, and he didn't buy _that_ rag—but then he got a closer look and his heart stopped. "What the _hell_?"

He picked up the paper and unfolded it. The first page was split into two full-body shots of him in the shower—front and back. Certain parts of the image were pixelated, but it left little to the imagination. 

"Tony! You swore there were no cameras in the bathrooms!"

"There weren't... when I said that," Tony said around a mouthful of cereal.

"You snuck a camera into my bathroom and then sold the pics to the _New York Telegraph_?"

Tony grinned. "Wanted the world to see your good—and pink—side." 

Bruce felt his face burn with humiliation and betrayal. Why would Tony do this? Yes, he had a weird sense of humor, but surely he had to realize how invasive this was.

He remembered some of the videos of Tony he'd seen on YouTube. He'd felt terribly ashamed of himself when Tony'd walked in on him watching one, but Tony had just laughed and offered him some banana chips. 

Maybe he _didn't_ get why this prank wasn't funny.

Bruce decided his appetite was ruined. "I'm going to my lab," he announced and turned to the elevator. Tony tagged along.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Just going to check on something." Tony was clearly trying to sound dismissive, but there was something else underneath it. Something almost like... shame? Huh. Maybe he did feel bad about the prank with the pictures and just didn't know how to admit it.

The door opened on Bruce's lab. He stepped out and stared. "What... happened?" The lab looked as if the Hulk had gone to town on it, but surely Bruce would know if he'd transformed since yesterday. He turned to Tony, expecting to see confusion and shock—and instead, was greeted by a cocky grin. "I redecorated."

Bruce looked at the shattered beakers, the torn-open and emptied-out specimens fridge, the smashed computers. It was almost too much to take in. "I worked on this for months."

Tony shrugged.

"Tony!" Bruce grabbed Tony's arm. "Why the _hell_ would you do that?"

"Bored, I guess." Tony's face was perfectly blank.

Bored? Bored with him? Bored with pretending to care? 

Bruce took a deep breath. "JARVIS, collate my data, see if anything—"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Banner, but all your research data has been erased. The back-ups, too." He sounded truly apologetic.

Bruce picked up the nearest object—a set of safety goggles—and threw them at Tony. They bounced off the arc reactor with a mild click. "You asshole. If you wanted me to leave, why didn't you just fucking say so?"

Tony bit his lip and didn't reply.

"I'd have gotten out of your hair any time you wanted me to. Did you have to destroy everything I worked for just because you don't have the guts to withdraw an invitation?" 

"Bruce, I—"

"Do not call me that, Mr. Stark. We are not friends."

Tony flinched, but seemed to catch himself. He stood up straight and pushed his hands into his pockets. "So, Dr. Banner," he half-sneered, "I take it you're pretty angry at me."

"Oh, you _are_ a genius." He kicked an overturned storage crate into the shards of his carefully calibrated experiment.

"Well, maybe you'll let me ask one question then," Tony said, his tone sheer provocation.

"By all means, go ahead!" Bruce bit back.

"What color are you?"

Bruce stopped. "What?"

Tony took a step closer, standing just outside Bruce's reach. "Look at your skin and tell me what color it is."

Bruce breathed in sharply. He was almost too angry for words. So angry he wanted to punch Tony, wanted to call him every name in the book, wanted to destroy his workshop as Tony had destroyed Bruce's lab. 

But his hands, as he held them up to the ridiculous backdrop of Tony's Hulk shirt, were pink. Pink and human and their usual size. "I didn't hulk out." In fact, the other guy wasn't even pushing, which was why Bruce hadn't thought about the possibility. The other guy was normally far from subtle.

"You didn't hulk out." Tony nodded. His tone was quiet and serious now. "It's not anger, Bruce."

"What?" His voice sounded faint in his own ears.

"It's not anger. It's threat. You can get as angry as you want, but the Big Guy only comes out when he thinks you're in danger."

Bruce blinked. Once. Twice. "That's what all of this was about. That's why you're wearing the shirt and why you sold nude pictures of me to the newspaper and why you destroyed my lab. To show me..."

"Well, yes, only I didn't really do most of that." 

Bruce shook his head, not understanding.

"Come with me, Bruce. Please. I know you're pissed off beyond all reason at me right now, and you have every right to be, but please, just come with me. Three minutes."

Bruce didn't know what to think. If Tony was right—and clearly he was, because Bruce could not remember the last time he'd felt this angry, and yet the other guy wasn't stirring—that information was worth...a lot. 

But Tony had gone too far with the lab. Bruce wasn't sure he could ever forgive that betrayal—for all that it had been Tony's lab to begin with, he'd given it to Bruce, and let him use it however he wished, and it, more than the bedroom five floors above, had been the first place Bruce had called home since before the accident. 

But the information was certainly worth three minutes of his time. He followed Tony to the elevator, too numb to do more than lean against the wall. Tony was chewing his lip nervously as he pressed a button.

"That's the floor we're already on," Bruce pointed out.

Tony shook his head. "No, it's not."

The doors closed, the elevator moved down one floor, and the doors opened again on—Bruce's lab. He blinked. There it was, everything perfectly tidy—or, well, exactly as he'd left it last night. He shook his head and looked at Tony. "I don't understand."

"I wouldn't destroy your lab, Bruce. It's not mine. Well, I suppose technically, but... It's all your work, and... Jesus Christ, I'm not that much of an asshole. We were on the wrong floor. I told JARVIS to take us there when you pressed the button for your lab."

"I apologize for the deception, Dr. Banner. Sir was adamant. I would also like to point out that all your research data is safe, securely stored on my main server as well as five back-up servers on three different continents. And one in space."

Bruce walked around, touching things, checking read-outs, and peering into the specimens fridge. "You built a complete replica of my lab and then destroyed it, just to..." Just to show him the Hulk was not what he'd thought. Not a raging instrument of anger, but a protector.

As Tony had said from the start.

Bruce shook his head and turned to Tony. "If you think I'm going to forgive you on the spot—"

"The pictures aren't real either," Tony added quickly. "I mean, yes, I really did install a secret camera in your shower and I really did take some nudie pics of you, and for that I'm sorry, but—only you, me, and JARVIS have seen them. That was a fake title page, the _New York Telegraph_ is really leading with a story about furries on the city council today."

Bruce blinked, lost for words again. The team shared showers after training, so Bruce didn't mind Tony or JARVIS seeing him—and he was sure Tony'd known that. 

Tony looked sheepish. "I really am wearing a Hulk shirt, though, so feel free to be pissed off about that."

Bruce turned towards his latest experiment and mechanically started taking readings, adjusting the dials as he went. He could feel Tony's eyes on him as he processed the last half hour. 

The only time the other guy forced his way out was when Bruce was in danger. His purpose wasn't destruction. He didn't hate Bruce and he didn't want to destroy everything Bruce loved. 

He just wanted to keep him safe.

"If I went too far—fuck, I did, didn't I?" Tony sounded desperate. "I just... I worked it out a while ago, from getting to know you, both of you, talking to you, and—I knew you'd never believe me if I just told you, I knew I'd have to prove it somehow, so I devised an—" He cut himself off, aware that admitting he'd made Bruce subject of an experiment was not the way to obtain forgiveness.

Bruce turned back to Tony, who was standing rooted to the spot, staring at his shoes, hands opening and closing. It clearly took every ounce of strength Tony had not to bolt from the room.

"Tony," Bruce said, and the dark eyes shot up to meet his in a mute plea. "It was still a jackass thing to do." Tony was a genius, and a scientist. He ought to have known how deeply this would hurt Bruce. 

"But—yeah, it was." 

"It was cruel."

Tony nodded wordlessly. And Bruce realized: Tony had known. 

Tony had very few friends, and though he wasn't great at saying it, Bruce knew they were precious to him. The bond Tony and Bruce shared, working together in the lab or the workshop or geeking out over calculations only five people on Earth could even understand, mattered to Tony much more that he could ever allow himself to admit.

Tony'd known he was putting all that in jeopardy, and he'd done it anyway, because it was the only way he could think of to... to give Bruce this. 

Bruce took a moment to really look at Tony. The hunched shoulders, the way he anxiously balanced on the balls of his feet, his hands nervously tugging on the hem of his T-shirt. Then Bruce said, "And... it was necessary."

Tony's eyes brightened with a small glimmer of hope.

"Because you're right. I wouldn't have believed it if you'd just told me, and I wouldn't have believed it if you'd only gotten me kind of mad. You needed to get me furious, and... Well. You found a way to do it. Without doing any actual damage."

"So...you're not pissed anymore?"

"Oh, I'm pissed."

Tony's face fell. "Oh."

Bruce smiled. "But I'm sort of enjoying it."

"Yeah?" One corner of Tony's mouth curled up in a hesitant smile.

"It's been a long time since I've allowed myself to just be angry. The anger was always there, boiling under the surface, but I was very careful to keep it in check. Except when I wanted the other guy to come out, but then it still wasn't me experiencing it. So... This is the first time in years I've been able to just feel pissed."

"Ummm... you're welcome." Tony looked uncomfortable. 

Bruce knew Tony hated having the few people he cared about angry at him. For lack of an olive branch, he held out a soldering iron. "Help me set up the next stage? It'll probably help me forgive you faster."

Tony smiled. "Sure!" He took the tool and turned to the screen that displayed the setup for stage 2. 

"Oh, and Tony?" 

"Yeah?"

Bruce gently nudged Tony's side with his elbow. "Do you suppose you could get me one of these shirts?"

The End


End file.
